


the seasons will change us new

by aceofdiamonds



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: sansa at midnight over five new years “I just want to kiss someone at midnight who isn’t my mum -- or my dad, or Robb,” she bursts out with, hand waving wildly. “It’s superstitious and probably stupid but kisses at midnight at the start of a new year sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> in my head the starks are scottish so there are tiny things in here that i don't know if they're just traditions in scotland? but they're things i do, so. this was going to actually be sansa/brienne and jon was going to be fleeting but then i'd built them up too much and i can never let jon/sansa go. brienne will hopefully come soon. title is from 3 rounds and a sound by blind pilot
> 
> warning for dubious consent halfway through

 

 

 

When Sansa is nine she's finally allowed to stay up for the bells. Robb stayed up last year and he won't stop going on about all the adults being drunk and all the food you can sneak when they're not looking.  
  
Sansa puts her best dress on and goes for a nap at ten like her mum told her too. Arya whines all the way to her bed because she's not old enough yet even though Sansa knows she'll be awake anyway. But Sansa wakes up an hour later, brushes her hair, and then blows a kiss to Arya who scowls in return.  
  
"See you next year!" she laughs, ducking out of the door when Arya throws socks at her.  
  
She pads down the stairs, meeting Robb on the way, to where her mum and dad are standing with their friends, the TV loud and bowls crisps dotted around the room.  
  
"Who's that?" she whispers to Robb, pointing at a serious looking man with a beard.  
  
"Stannis Baratheon," he whispers back.  
  
Oh. Sansa knows him. And there's his brothers: Robert and Renly, and over there is Mr and Mrs Karstark and there's Mr Mormont and his nephew Jorah. Robb and Sansa spend their time pointing out people they've heard about, laughing when they look for crisps that are squirrelled away in robb and Sansa's hands.  
  
The countdown is started by the TV and everyone enthusiastically joins in and then the bells ring and everyone cheers and everyone is kissing.  
  
Robb kisses Sansa's cheek, hugs her, and immediately afterwards sticks his tongue out. They're in their own special group tonight which demands social kindness.  
  
Sansa's mum finds them both, hugging them to her and kissing their cheeks twice each. She smiles at Sansa, tells her, "a kiss at New Year is good luck" and sparks something in Sansa's chest.  
  
They all gather in a circle, Sansa between Robb and Renly Baratheon to link hands and sing Auld Langs Syne, and she closes her eyes and thinks what she'll do with all her good luck.

  


.

  
  


When she’s fourteen she sets her sights higher than the luck her mother can bring her. Surely if it comes from outwith the family, the luck it brings will be stronger, and maybe if it’s with love in mind, it will bring love with it.

With this theory in mind, Sansa goes along with Robb to a party at Hogmanay, her first time away from her parents. Again, Arya is left behind, but she has Micah over and Bran is there, and so Sansa doesn’t feel bad when she kisses her mum goodbye and promises to call after midnight.

Sansa has a Bacardi Breezer and half a blue WKD and she’s not a lightweight, okay, but she’s fourteen and in a party where she doesn’t know a lot of people and her head is spinning.

Suddenly, a beautiful oasis in the crowd, Jon pushes his way through to her. Jon, who has been around at their house for as long as Sansa can remember. Stoic Jon with his clever little jokes and the loud laughter she can hear from Robb’s room.

“Hi, Sansa,” he says, head ducked low against the loud music. “How are you?”

Sansa sighs. “Fine, Jon. You?”

“Cramped,” which is true. “Come on, you look like you need fresh air,” which is also true, so Sansa follows when Jon turns and struggles back through the crowd. They unlock the back door and step outside which is mercifully empty.

“I thought you came with Robb,” Jon says, frowning. He leans against the wall -- Sansa subconsciously moves in beside him, body heat. “Where is he?”

“Theon appeared and they both so Jeyne, so,” Sansa leaves the rest hanging, doesn’t want to highlight that everyone seems to have someone and she doesn’t. 

“I just want to kiss someone at midnight who isn’t my mum -- or my dad, or Robb,” she bursts out with, hand waving wildly. “It’s superstitious and probably stupid but kisses at midnight at the start of a new year sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“If you say so,” Jon says, which isn’t negative so she continues.

“Just one year --” she looks inside to where people have collectively started counting, wild and drunk, arms hanging around necks and promises of a great next year. “-- just one year, Jon,” she says.

And the crowd reaches one and she turns to say Happy New Year and Jon is kissing her. Oh, Sansa never considered Jon, not the best friend of her brother with the sad eyes and always out of reach, but there’s fireworks in the background, literally in next door’s garden, which just adds to everything because as it turns out Jon is a very nice kisser. He’s gentle and sweet, his hands cupping her face, but just as he pulls away he bites her lip and god, if this isn’t a good omen for the year ahead Sansa doesn’t mind doing it all over again.

“So,” he says when they pull away and Sansa has grounded herself again. “I hope that was okay.”

Sansa smiles. “That was what I was talking about,” she says. “Thanks for taking me up on my begging.”

“Aw it wasn’t anything like that,” Jon protests. He rubs at the back of his neck. “Happy New Year, Sansa.”

“Happy New Year, Jon.”

  


.

  


That kiss with Jon definitely brought something but Sansa isn't sure if it was good. Maybe she's thinking too much about the effects something at the beginning of the year can have on her whole year.

Because now she's pressed against the wall and Joffrey is leaning in and all she can think is that this relationship lasted 7 months longer than it should have. She turns her head but Joffrey’s having none of it.

“What are you doing, my sweet?” he says, the words crawling over her skin. “Kiss me.”

“It's almost midnight, Joff,” she whispers. “Shouldn't we get inside?”

“And ruin the big moment?” Joffrey says. “Nah, I like it here.”

He shoves his mouth against Sansa’s, wrenching hers open, and she stands with the wall hard against her back, and wishes she'd done something sooner, fuck fake charming boys with pretty hair and powerful families and fuck Sansa for pretending he was good for her.

Sometimes new years are new beginnings but this is the end.

  


.

  


“Phone me in the morning!” Sansa’s mum says as she steps out the door, bag over her shoulder, Jon waiting in the car. “And have a good night!”

“You too!” Sansa shouts back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then she’s shouting bye to her dad and Rickon, the rest of her siblings scattered across the west coast, and closes the door behind her.

“You’re late,” Jon says as she collapses into the passenger seat.

“I was making myself pretty for you, Joooon,” she simpers, tousling her hair and tipping him a wink. “Did I do a good job?”

Jon rolls his eyes, leans in to kiss her. He smells nice -- Sansa lingers once he pulls away. “You did fine,” he says, grinning when Sansa pouts. “My mum left me a note saying I’ve to give you champagne at midnight.”

“Your mum’s a wonderful lady,” and very lenient, letting Sansa stay over when she’s not in the house. She’s one of those mothers who trust their sons, which is nice. And Sansa’s mum trusts her. “That’s the whole reason I’m coming.”

Jon’s hand slips off the gear stick to rest on her knee. They brake at traffic lights and when he looks at her he grins, his teeth sharp and his eyes bright, and Sansa suddenly yearns for the ability to transport them right to his house. Tonight’s their first time, you see, after four months of kissing and a lot of other things leading up to this. It sounds unbearably cheesy to plan this out for Hogmanay but empty houses just worked out that way and Sansa’s all for grabbing opportunity.

They open the champagne early, swallowing the bubbles so they sit in Sansa’s stomach as a whimsical kind of bravery, but she doesn’t need courage, not with Jon, Jon who has always been kind to her, looked out for her, became a friend over the last two years, and then someone Sansa gave her heart too, willing and open. She doesn’t need to be brave for this -- Jon is here and he loves her and she loves him and this is something like the dream she thought up when she learned about sex.

Midnight comes and goes in a blur of magic as Sansa and Jon slide under the covers and Sansa wraps her arms around Jon and he kisses her, this is it.

There must be something poetic in here, there _must_ be, about starting the new year as one. Sansa loves poetry.

  


.

  


Years pass and Sansa half-forgets about that superstition her mother told her. Luck is made not given and Sansa has been busy building her life into one she’s proud of. She graduates with honours and a History of Art degree tucked under her arm and she fits herself into an art gallery where the people are lovely and the work is beautiful, her mouth running off script as she gestures to parts of paintings and lives of artists she’s admired for years and the appreciative murmurs from the public.

She surrounds herself with beauty everyday and then she goes home to her tiny Christmas tree and the homemade ornaments and the family photos on the wall. She kisses her husband of three months, laughs at a story he tells her of his day at work, and then they make dinner together, moving around each other in the tiny kitchen built for one but adapted for two.

“Do you wish we’d gone out somewhere, Jon?” Sansa asks, as they flop onto the couch, wine glasses full to the brim and heads spinning. “There’s still time to go up to Glasgow or even down to the pub.”

But Jon shrugs, turns to look at her, and look at that soft smile, that’s one that’s made just for her. “Here is good,” he says. “You’re here.”

Sansa grins. “Where was this charm when we were eleven?”

“You had to coax it out of me,” which is true but when they fell in love, slowly over all those months and then straight out of nowhere, anything Jon said was enough for Sansa to bite her lip and thank her lucky stars they somehow ended up here.

They spend the rest of the night flicking through channels, not paying attention to anything but what they’re saying to each other. They make noises about the coming year, how their lives might change, the trajectories of their careers, and as the wine depletes they become soppy and open, laughs clumsy and grins lop-sided.

Jackie Bird counts them down from Edinburgh Castle and Sansa pulls them to their feet, their own party of two in their living room. The bells chime and Sansa sways into Jon’s space, kisses him messily. They pull away, try again, and then they’re laughing and none of it works, but this happiness in the air is the thing Sansa had in mind when her mum mentioned good luck and now she has it without trying at all. Jon all but stumbled into her heart from his place in the room across the hall and now here he is, his ring on her finger and their names intertwined forever.

“You’re my lucky charm,” she mumbles into his neck, pulls her head up in time to catch Jon’s expression. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sansa,” he replies, swaying them to Auld Lang Syne. “But this luck is all you.”

Which is really very true. In that moment Sansa stops hinging her year on the moment the clock strikes midnight and focuses on kissing her husband and all the things she’s going to do with her year. She has so many plans.

 

 

 


End file.
